What a lover's heart knows
by Veronicavonx
Summary: Veronica Follies—a feisty, demanding burlesque dancer leads a life forgoing all logic and reasoning, letting intuitions be her only guide. Being led by your gut feelings can often times get you into trouble as Veronica learns when she finds her fate undeniably tangled with Mycroft Holmes's.
1. Split Wine

**Hi this is my first fan fiction and really my first attempt at writing anything at all (aside from school english assignments, of course.) I am terrible at grammar and spelling so if anyone would like to help me with editing that i'd be so so thankful. **

'_Mycroft Holmes_' the name card read in swirly decadence of gold ink. To the right of his seat was president of France, François Hollande and his wife whom was playing nervously with her hands. She was wearing a tight fitting red dress, her cleavage hoisted up and out with a new lace bra which was bought in a desperate attempt to win her husbands gaze back. It was popular gossip among socialites for years that he was having an affair-which of course he was. This desperate plea for attention from his wife bored Mycroft. It was such a common story among goldfish…love…jealousy…affairs…desire to be loved and noticed..they spent so much time giving energy to such pointless, weak emotions.

"Mr. Holmes, what a pleasure it is to meet you." François' accent tangled in thick with his English. "De même, le président François Hollande." Mycroft was terrible with small talk. The conversation, although more interesting than deductions on First Lady Valerie Trierweiler, was still very boring. He causally made a jab or two reminding the President of his agreements with the British Government. Mycroft Holmes already knew from the way François' pupils dilated when they fell under his gaze and their sweaty handshake that the man would keep true to his word but it did well to keep people on their toes.

With the last few guests finding their seats, the event was to begin soon. It was an intimate dinner party of about 40 of the most influential being thrown by the president of Russia. All invited knew this meal was for all intents and purposes used as Putin's way to gauge who to trust and who to eliminate. Even to the unobservant eye one could read the situation with ease. Small talk was bated with hidden messages, questions and prods for information on a countries disposition. It is exactly what drove Mycroft to accept the invitation. He could handle most diplomatic issues with grace and ease but even he felt himself on high alert tonight. He scanned the room, searching for the small details that would show something was amiss; buttons done up wrong, watches that read time zones they shouldn't, hands tucked beneath their bodies out unconscious desire to keep their movements hidden, weight loss or perhaps weight gain. In seconds he could deduce the disposition of everyone in the room but he'd already known that before he even arrived. What brought Mycroft out of his office like a snake ready to strike was a very small misprint in information on a document made three months prior that announced the suspension of all services from England's diplomatic personnel in Syria. Such a small delicate error that could potentially put the safety of England in jeopardy. Rather than mulling over how someone had missed the detail for so long as three months the sharply dressed, middle aged man came to fix someone else's mistake. Always on cleanup duties.

The room fell quiet as the Russian stood proudly voicing his intent for the night. "Thank you for all being here tonight. It is my hopes that this dinner can open the way to a dialogue between all of the parties, so as to find solutions that will be acceptable to all sides. This requires a substantial and detailed dialogue. This is the key to success…" Ten servers quietly entered the room, bringing in the entrée and starter drinks. Standing there against the wall, waiting for their signal to serve. Mycroft had Andrea bring files of all those who were attending the party tonight. He recognized the servers, except for the one who was in her 30's…._she had very few wrinkles but there were creases next to her eyes which she had attempted to reduce by makeup that indicted she was conscious of her age._ _35._ He inferred somewhere in the back of his mind. Unlike the younger Holmes, Mycroft didn't enjoy doing deductions. It was as natural as breathing. He he found no pleasure in either of those feats. Mycroft shifted his attention back to the head of the table "…but with resolve, let us never lose sight of that essential truth." The tall blonde leader of Russia took his seat. With a small nod of his head signaling the end of his speech entrèes small black plates began being served.

Through the meal Mycroft found discomfort growing inside himself. Small beads of sweat formed at his forehead. On Mycroft's agenda for the night was speaking to Bashar al-Assad but the moment wasn't right yet. He waited, stalking his prey from across the table watching carefully for vulnerabilities. His fork sank down into the thick slice of marshmallow cake covered in chocolate but he couldn't bring himself to eat it. His appetite was lost. _Just one small bite_. He brought it to his lips, keeping all his composure as he swallowed it down._ I need to have Athena bring me some stomach medicine._ He noted. It was rare that he felt ill, but the stress of his job did take his toll from time to time. "Would you like any wine, sir?" The replacement servers asked. She was the oldest of the servers. S_omeone found last minute but had met all the high security clearance required so she'd likely worked at a party like this previously. Serving was not what brought her here prior though as she gave him the wrong fork._ "No. Water-" wine spilled into his lap, pooling up on his Savile Row grey slacks. Clenching his teeth tightly together to keep from making rude remarks. He heard the concern of Valerie "Are you alright, Mr. Holmes?" "Yes just a little spilt wine." he assured with a well measured smile. "Come to the back, we will get you cleaned up." The server whispered, moving quick to avoid making a big scene. Slightly disorientated, he got up on legs that didn't feel like his own. Everything was unbalanced. The room a blur of sounds and lights as the woman led him away from the party, who were almost all oblivious to what had just happened.

There was ringing in ears as he stumbled through the kitchen. His body seemed to be on autopilot as he continued to follow the woman through the busy parts of the kitchen. Step after step. He remembered to text Athena. It was impolite to the host to bring full staff of body guards or assistants so she had stayed behind working on other details of the paperwork errors.

_very ill. bring doctor and medicine also, a pair of-_

"Mr. Holmes..you'll need this" The brunette interrupted shoving a waste bucket full of fish heads, the leftover chopped onions and stale marshmallows floating in a unidentified broth, into his face. "What exactly do you think you are doing?!" He lost any composure he had left. His mind slowly moving with questions and deductions before she shoved it close his face once more looking at him with apologetic green eyes. It smelt like a soured fish market with hints of sweatness. His stomach clenched tight in pain and he heaved. I've_ been poisoned._ His mind arrived at the conclusion so suddenly before it all turned black.


	2. Suspect

**Hello! Again, I'd love help from anyone available to help with my atrocious grammar and spelling mistakes. Please leave reviews! I would really like any constructive criticism on my writing and ways to improve as this is my first attempt I still have a long way to grow.**

He'd ignored the doctors requests and changed out of the hospital gown. There was no way he'd wear such an undignified piece of cloth and have his backside exposed. Athena had brought him his softest white cashmere sweatshirt and a lose pair of loungewear pants that were made out of a cotton blend. He much preferred his slacks but it would press into his stomach and that wouldn't have done him any good today. His throat burned, raw from having his stomach pumped after arriving at the hospital late last night. Athena walked into the private room holding a stack of paperwork. She ignored any niceties of the situation having long learned by now that Mycroft didn't care for concerns of his well-being. The best way to take care of his health was to get the job done faster so that he could rest. Mycroft didn't get much sleep when there was things unresolved. "Did you bring the files?" He looked up at her from his laptop. "Yes, it's all here." He gave an absent nod as he returned to his laptop screen. He had been searching Veronica Follies' medical records, who she was affiliated with, her past lovers criminal histories and anything else he could find on the 35 year old performer. _She knew I was poisoned before even I did._ This unnerving fact was only shared with his assistant, being withheld from any records on the event. Athena went to speak again but Mycroft was six steps ahead of her. His blasé, measured words cut ahead answering the unasked question. "Yes, I do suppose we should call Sherlock."

Athena greeted the detective and doctor with a smile. "Mycroft will be with you in a few moments." They had arrived sooner than projected. She mentally cursed at her mistake, Mycroft would not be pleased with the miscalculation. Two guards stood outside the hospital room door, blocking any entrance. Sherlock stole a glance through the little door window. He never thought he'd see the day where his older brother would have looked almost human sitting in the hospital bed exhausted as the doctor started taking a blood sample. Upon realization of the younger Holmes's gaze, the guard moved his body to the center, blocking the entire view. "He was poisoned late last night whilst attending an important dinner party. Here is all the information we can release to you at this time is in this." She handed Sherlock a heavy manilla folder which was quickly passed off to John. Athena gave him a pointed look "I trust you both understand the matters require total confidentiality." "Of course. Right Sherlock?" John looked to his side only to find the cunning man had leapt to dismantle the guards and slip past them. "Sherlock!" John shouted angrily as he watched the scene unfold. Why couldn't he just wait a few minutes was beyond John.

"How good of you to join me, brother mine." The banter ended with a grimace as the doctor pulled a needle out of his skin. The elder Holmes carefully rolled down his sleeves. "A bit of an odd dieting choice to get your stomach pumped, Mycroft." Sherlock carefully reached into the doctors bottom coat pocket as he exited, taking a vile of blood and carefully tucking it away. "Perhaps it'll be the most effective one yet!" Sherlock mocked. Athena quietly shut the door behind John as he entered, leaving the three some privacy as she fetched more security. "I saw that, Sherlock." "Saw what?" John looked between the two, confused as ever. "Never mind that John…" Sherlock paused to give his brother a quick look over. _ bloodshot eyes. hadn't slept much more than a few hours and had been straining them looking on a computer. His blood a dark shade of red indicating it was __Deoxygenated. Poisoned through indigestion. Toxin had entered his bloodstream 3 hours ago. poisoned at the very start of the event. It took an hour for the effects to take full affect. _"Sherlock, I need your assistance."Mycroft chose his words carefully but knew no matter how he said it he was undeniably feeding Sherlocks ego."Asking to be my client, Mycroft? Isn't that a bit beneath you." Sherlock knew his older brother had everything pigeon-holed in his mind and could handle anything out in an instant. He continued to press for the why. "I thought you were the smart one." "I AM." Mycroft snapped. Taking purposed breath he regained his own fortitude. "but I've been advised to keep my distance from the case." His throat burned with the words. "I'm asking for your help sherlock, not your arrogance." "Well" Sherlock gave a deliberate pause, giving the room a once over "I will save you, dear Mycroft, from the big scary bad guys!" Mycroft kept from rolling his eyes at Sherlocks childish ways. "Hope you um…get better soon." John stumbled with the words, feeling concerned for Mycroft felt strange. "I will, John." Mycroft gave a small smile. John awkwardly exited the room after sherlock. "Oh- and it was Aconitum." Sherlock popped back in, his voice surprising Mycroft. He carelessly tossed the vile of blood at Mycroft's bed. "That grossly overpaid doctor will tell you that in a few hours though. Really you should hire better than that Mycroft…" His voice trailed behind him and down the hall becoming more and more faith. Athena looked out the window "They are leaving now, sir." Mycroft smirked to himself, opening his laptop back up to look at Veronica Follies information once more.

"I did not poison Mr. Holmes" the dark haired woman repeated for the third time. Veronica Follies had been detained for the attempted murder of Mycroft Holmes. "You were serving Mr. Holmes that night weren't you? You had direct access to his food." The redheaded man leaned forward. The fluorescent light above hummed, casting light down the mans face at such an angle that it gave him all the more sinister of appearance. She felt the edge of panic creep up the back of her throat. "Yes, I did serve Mr. Holmes last night. I did not however poison him." Her voice surprised her, coming out even and steady. The bald man gave Veronica an incredulous look before shuffling through the stack of papers. The only metal door to the room opened. Sherlock and John walked in the small detainee room interrupting whatever the blonde was about to ask. "I'll take it from here." The two investigators rolled their eyes but were quick to exit, both needing coffee and bathroom breaks. They didn't question his presence. _That's_ _Odd S_herlock thought. He expected resistance. If Mycroft was told not to be on the case, why would they let Sherlock. He broke from this thought when he heard John whispering "What now..?" "Get all the staff being detained to meet me in the hall." "What?" "John I don't have time for this. I need them in the hall now." "Right, well you heard him" John lead Veronica out to the hall before quickly fetching the others.

Sherlock paced. "No. No. No." He pointed from person to person, dismissing them in a hurried rush. "You uh..you can leave now." John looked apologetic at them all as they exited the hall. Some had broken into tears at Sherlocks deductions. Sherlock looked to the last of the line, two blondes standing side by side. _S__imilar mentonian and ear factions, not to mention tonality of hair. Family members. Sisters. Two year age gap. Lived together. Both were unaware of the other sleeping with the sous chef. _The older blonde let out a loud shriek as Sherlock forcibly grabbed her hands from her pocket. "Sherlock-" John stepped forward, ready to intervene. Sherlock shot him a look that said "Not now John." Veronica watched the strange man as he sniffed the other waitress's hands. _What a weirdo. _The weirdo moved in front of Veronica._ Her natural hair color was showing ever so slightly at the roots but the rest of her dark brown color was kept fresh. had it done professionally every two weeks. financially stable. Black heels but not uniform being 8 centimeters higher than the rest of the servers. _"Your name is Veronica Follies, although that's not your real last name. It's a stage name. You are a stripper at a night club in-" "Burlesque Dancer." She interjected. Sherlock narrowed his eyes. _Confident and took pride in her work._ "Stripper…burlesque dancer…what does it matter. It's all the same." annoyance was evident in his tone. "You entertain wealthy men and women at Annabel's, a private membership nightclub. You are attracted to powerful men…and sometimes women. You are emotional, bossy, love to be the center of attention and often indulge in your love for desserts and expensive handbags. You were called last notice to fill in the position of a missing server." Sherlock gauged her reactions. He'd realized she was the server who brought Mycroft his meals that night. She didn't feel uncomfortable with the attention, she was used to being watched. It was after all part of her job and he was right, she enjoyed it. How this complete stranger had known so much though..that was beyond her comfort zone. _He is part of the government though_._.he's trained for this type of thing_…she thought to herself, wrongly assuming Sherlocks career. "I prefer the term demanding." She stood up taller. "but yes, that is…it's all" She stopped mid sentence from telling him it was all right..so scarily accurate, she had the feeling he'd get satisfaction from being so correct. "Yes….I was called in to take place of another girl." Sherlock watched her closely for a moment more before dismissing her and the two blondes.

In the cab John finally settled for a moment. The events had all strung together in a hurried rush from one place to the next since Sherlock had woken him late into the night. He felt a twist of worry grow in the pit of his stomach throughout the day for Sherlock. Despite their animosity towards one another John wanted to believe the Holmes brothers cared for one another…albeit they had a twisted, emotionally stunted way of showing it. Reeling through the events, he frowned in confusion at little details he couldn't place comprehension behind. "Sherlock why did you need to see her hands?" "Whoever poisoned Mycroft would've needed to wear gloves when handling the poison. Her hands would've smelt of leather or rubber…which they didn't. She didn't wash them after using the restroom though. Digusting." John laughed "Well that's what you get for sniffing hands." Sherlock joined John in the outburst of giggles. It was quite absurd. "and…the…other..one?" John asked between laughs. "Poisoning requires premeditation, she was called last minute." "What if it was planned to look like that?" "No. Her hair wasn't touched up. A woman like her would've been prepared to look her best at an event like that." The cab pulled up to their apartment at 221B Baker St. "Put on a pot of tea Miss Hudson! We've got a new case." Sherlock shouted excitedly as he climbed up the stairs. Sherlock found his chair and delved into the folder Athena had given them. The new information sent his mind racing with possibilities.


	3. Pressing Matters

In a dimly lit room, four men sat on a plush sofa their eyes eagerly greeting the burlesque dancer as slowly slipped thigh high stockings away, revealing her tones legs. The gave shouts and cheers of encouragement that wasn't needed. Her hands traveled up the sides of her hips. Dark purple polish standing out against her smooth pale skin. Veronica smiled, watching the small party lean forward as she slipped out of a swarovski brassière with grace. In seduction she found power. Her painted lips meet the temple of the younger gentleman who was celebrating his birthday with his friends. She rarely performed with such a small audience having much preferring a large stage, but she didn't get paid for staffing President Putin's dinner party, so she was picking up extra shifts.

"Happy birthday" her voice had a natural rich, slightly husky quality too it that she purposely amplified in appeal with a breathy whisper. Nails dug into her waist as the birthday boy, drunk on whisky, tried to pull her into his lap. "I do not give lap dances." Veronica suddenly remembered why she didn't do these types of performances. "baaaby come on luff….s'hweet girl…is my birthday" "Sir, I do not give lap dances now kindly let go." He didn't, instead splashed the remainder of whisky at her.

"Fuckin' whoree" He spat.

Anger boiled up within her quickly, ruling all her thoughts. She found herself wanting so desperately to unleash her volatile thoughts in a full fury- but he was a customer, a high paying one at that so she regrettably returned back to the main rooms in Annabel's. His group of drunken buddies followed her out, shouting out their dissatisfaction with her. The outbursts interrupting the other performers on main stage. One of the headmistresses gave her a pointed look. Veronica mumbled "Lap dances." The woman sighed as she signaled for the the bouncers to remove the shouting young men. The club would run into these sorts of problems every now and again, despite it being incredibly exclusive, only there was always an occasional celebrity or politician that would step out of line. The dancers were never to be touched and the rule was always firmly enforced.

"Pity. I would've taken a few of them on as my own personal cliental….when will men learn that drunken demanding will never get them anywhere." Her headmistress was well-known for being a dominatrix to high prolific men and women. Often she would take on an occasion member of Annabel's as her client. The dancers all respected her, many hoped to be taken under her wing and trained to become dominatrix's themselves. Veronica had no interest in becoming one, she was happy doing burlesque, but she knew there was much to learn from the enigmatic Irene Alder. "I'll see you tomorrow night. If you don't mind I think i'm going to head off now." "You may. Everything here is taken care of." The headmistress' lips lightly twitched up as she made her way into the private room that the birthday boy hadn't exited.

Veronica fished through her purse looking for her keys. They'd gotten lost once again. She dumped it on the floor in a last attempt to find her key to the apartment. The street lights spilled in from the hallway window, creating a little patch of light as she sorted through the pile of stuff; an extra pair of stockings, pack of gum, water bottle, a hair comb, a small black taser-a safety measure one had to take as a burlesque dancer, her journal and makeup bag. No keys. "Having troubles?" A low pitch voice interrupted her search. From peripheral vision she made out a tall suited man. Veronica felt a spike of adrenaline rush through her veins. Had one of the angry clients from the club followed her to her flat. Slowly she reached out for her taser. "I don't mean to harm you, Miss Follies. I apologize if my presence alarmed you." He spoke slowly as he stepped forward from behind her, revealing himself to be the man she spilt wine on at the dinner party two nights ago. Veronica calmed immediately, trusting her gut feeling that he was being honest. "Ah there they are!" The keys had slipped into through a tear in the lining of her bag.

Veronica sipped at her lemon jasmine brew, her yellow kimono setting of her dark brown hair and green eyes. Mycroft sat across from her in a floral patterned armchair, looking unseemly among her messy flat. "You must have desperately wanted to meet me again for you to come at such an hour" She smiled playfully, looking down at her mug; It was chipped on the top side of the handle. Veronica frowned. She'd never noticed that before. "Yes, there are some pressing matters. I'd like you to"—Mycroft watched as a hairless cat entered the room, jumping up onto Veronicas lap. — "answer some questions, if you could." Mycroft gave her a smile. "Am I in trouble?" She frowned once more but no anxiety was evident in her body language. She was comfortable. "That depends." Veronica sat up straighter, staring at him with such an intensity that demanded resolve of the conversation "What is it you'd like to ask me, Mr. Holmes? I already gave my official statements." She could feel the sticky whisky on her skin that begged to be washed. A sliver of guilt grew when she realized she had unreasonably snapped at him but was quickly vanished as he spoke. "Yes, you did. I'm here to ask you of what you didn't put in the reports like my assistant briefed you on." He paused. "What i'm asking, Miss Follies is why did you spill wine on me" Veronica shifted slightly "It was an accident." "No it wasn't." Mycroft felt exasperation slip past his carefully guarded mind; something that simply just didn't happen unless Sherlock was near. "I didn't poison you" "That's not what I asked!" He raised his voice and immediately cringed at his actions. Looking contritely at her he apologized.

She sat there across from Mycroft for a few moments, quietly thinking. "I did" She finally revealed as a way of apologizing for her own outburst. She looked up at him. "I knew you were sick..I just had this gut feeling, Mr. Holmes." "A gut feeling…?" He stared down at her incredulously. "I knew guests such as yourself wouldn't want a scene of publicly getting ill so I-" He stood, grabbing his umbrella with such grip that his knuckles turned white."I see now that expecting your coöperation was a mistake on my part." He turned away from her "I shall see myself out. However useless it has proved to be, thank you for your time, Miss Follies." he called out as he walked away. Veronica let out a frustrated groan. Today was just not her day.


	4. Pay attention, Sherlock

Sherlock and John stood soaked before Mycroft's large desk. Rain dripping off soggy shoes onto the carpeted floor, creating a puddle of evidence that would remain even after their departure. "Why did you ask me to take on a case you already solved" Sherlocks face twisted. "You really should carry an umbrella." Mycroft scoffed seemingly at their unpreparedness, purposely delaying the conversation further to infuriate the younger Holmes. The faint sounds of London could still be heard over the pouring rain. Mycroft noted he should use one of his other more sound proof offices on days like today; He preferred absolute silence as it left him to organize his own thoughts neatly into boxes. He was never one to thrive within a mess. Sherlock stood before him glaring with his fists clenched at his side as his words tumbled out with quick, angry precision. "4mg of pure Aconitum laced in the Olivier that was prepped and labeled the night before due to Ms. Merkel's mild food allergies. Aconitum in its pure form can seep through even gloved hands causing her a mild fever the night of the Dinner party..The absent server had caught a fever due to this and thus called in late. She however was just as oblivious as any of the other staff as the poison had already been put inside the-" Thunder rolled throughout the charcoal coloured sky interrupting the dark-haired detective. "Must I go on brother? I do believe you know the rest." Mycroft leaned back in his comfortable office chair, the portrait of Elizabeth II hanging above him; both alone in the problems of their responsibilities. The office door opened with Athena quietly entered with towels in hand. "Oh, do accept it Sherlock. You are drenched." Mycroft nagged as the younger Holmes ignored the offer. Sherlock begrudging yanked the it from her, wrapping his wiry figure up in the plush heated towel. "Thanks." John offered Athena an apologetic look for Sherlocks actions.

"Your help was not without purpose, Sherlock. I assure you."

"I do not have time to run around to solve a case that you've already taken care of."

"Yeah, I'll say" The doctor added in. "We saw the news. 'Syrian head of state commits suicide on the Tower Bridge early this morning.' " John's voice mimicked that of the new's reporters. Mycroft ignored John's accusation although it most of the truth. The news always got the times messed up- It was evening. He had realized in the hospital who had poisoned him. The head of state, Mr. Halim Khaddam had tried to secure an upper hand within the British Government- knowing full well what would entail if those papers went without correction- by eliminating the countries most indispensable brain-trust. It had simple enough to figure out but their had been certain lose ends that hadn't come into a neat bow yet. He had bought himself time to figure out Veronicas uncanny role in all this by sending Sherlock to confirm his conclusions, but was left disappointed and frustrated with her answers which lacked all reasoning and logic. The case felt unfinished.

Least he had not been upstaged by Sherlock as the detective had completely missed Veronicas importance altogether. "You are missing something." Mycroft smiled his smug smile towards the younger Holmes who had now sat across the room, getting his chair wet. "What?" Mycroft watched intently as Sherlocks slipped into his mind- circling through his mind palace, picking through the random tidbits of information he had collected throughout the case. Mycroft waited with bated breath hoping. Hoping he had taught the only person who came close to being his equal well enough over the years. Sherlock's eyes returned their focus. "I can hardly see why the replacement server is revenant. She spilt the wine for the opportune chance to seduce you in the kitchen." Mycroft sighed. Sherlock was so easily influenced by what he thinks he knows as fact. Veronica Follies was indeed attracted to powerful people, the list of her lovers careers proved as much. She however, did not intervene with Mycroft out of a deliberate pursuit for seduction. That much he felt confident on. She was not the type of woman for mind games or well thought out plans, rather chased her desires on a whim. Subtly was not the woman's strong suit, Mycroft had observed as much when he visited her apartment. She was prone to carelessness. The memory of her becoming so easily unbound by him in just a few short moments found its way into his mind. "Oh. You think she is relevant." Sherlock laughed out.

"Don't tell me her amateur plans of seduction have gotten to you, brother." Mycrofts face turned scornful at that idea

"Absolutely not."

"Sherlock-" John nudged gently with a whisper, reminding the other of the cases waiting for them.

"If you'll excuse us now, John and I have actual cases to get to." His voice didn't hide the discontent with Mycrofts antics that still crawled in his skin. Sherlock lept up and looked to instantly regret it. His still damp clothing clung to his body, showing every outline of his chest. Any movements rubbed skin into an uncomfortable submission to the clothing- causing an irritable torture for the both of them as the exited.

Athena's heels squished into the wet carpet. "Should we call a carpet cleaning service, Sir?" Mycroft gave a small nod. "Perhaps I should consider getting hardwood…easier to clean." Mycroft stole a glance out the window. The rain still poured down drearily. "Athena, what do you think of gut feelings?"

It was rare the man ever asked for her personal thoughts on something and this was not lost on her. She gave him an inquisitive look before speaking. " Gut feelings arise from the limbic and reptilian parts of our brains... hardly something a rational person would allow to rule their daily decision-making process. I suppose the merit of those functions only comes in dire situations when the average person is not capable of analyzing the situation." She kept her answer short and to the point, one of the things Mycroft found so agreeable about his assistant. Her words rang true to him as well and shook the thought of Veronica free from his mind. Nothing was coincidence. Veronica seemed to be lead by feelings. To have a feeling that he needed a quiet, clean exit without drawing too much attention was correct. She had entertained plenty of government officials and the like to have known such a thing. It wasn't too much of a stretch of imagination either to think of poisoning. After all, it could have been assumed every guest in there would've loved to kill off one another to gain power. He showed all the early symptoms. Mycroft concluded that she had subconsciously observed his state and drawn to the conclusion without intermediate understanding in the forefront of her mind. However irrational her actions had been, they had helped him avoid a scene and get to the hospital quicker. Mycroft refused to give her so much credit as to think she had saved him. He wasn't closely behind her in figuring it out. He assured himself that with or without a Veronica Follies he would've handled it just fine. A small feeling knew that might not be the honest reality but he didn't entertain that feeling; shoving it far back into his mind. The lose ends tied into a lopsided bow, one that didn't satisfy his need to understand everything but enough that Veronica Follies no longer entertained his thoughts.

Three weeks later Mycroft found himself sitting at his desk, frowning over a report. It seemed he would have to bring Sherlock onto a case for the second time this month. This case however did have heavy repercussions if it was not accepted by Sherlock. He flipped through the photos of Irene Adler and let out a sigh. It seemed he would have to bring an apologetic front when he dealt with Sherlock later this afternoon. There was no way to avoid bringing his brother and his sidekick, John Watson onto this case. He'd apologize for the sake of England.

"What do you know about this woman?" Mycroft showed Sherlock a photograph of Irene.

"Nothing whatsoever."

"Then you should be paying more attention." Mycroft replied. His words carrying the heavy advice he should've given Sherlock earlier.

How he had wrongly deduced that server girl was one thing, but to be completely oblivious to Irene Alders presence within the lives of some of the most powerful men and women in Britain was another. Sherlock was missing important information often it seemed. Mycroft was almost sure he had run into criminals or clients who had naturally through their wealth and status been involved in one way or another with Irene. He'd look into it later.

When Mycroft returned to his smaller government issued office he found a small book of hardwood samplings sitting atop his desk. Always attentive he thought of his assistant. He had allowed her to take three days off to travel to Paris with her Husband. Her relationship rarely got in the way of her work and even when she was away she still managed to get most the work load done. Mycroft suspected her to feel the desire to become a mother soon though if she did not already, he had noticed her gaze drifting happily to mothers with strollers when they drove to meetings. He thought as he browsed through the pages, running his elegant fingers over the small 1inch textured samples of wood. There was a wide selection of hardwoods in all sorts of colors but Mycroft made his mind quickly, selecting the Peruvian rosewood. It went well with his personal style that his other office was decorated in. He called his temp assistant, someone who had trained underneath Athena for years. "Update the surveillance on Veronica Follies in Apartment 13, Maida Avenue to 1." She was connected to Irene Alder and due to her peculiar and unmotivated involvement in the case previously he thought it best to keep an eye on her once again. Veronica Follies was somewhat of a loose cannon and it didn't bode well with Mycroft Holmes.


	5. Irene and Friends

**Hello! Thanks to everyone who is reading! :) I put more spaces into the writing...I hope it's enough! I will add more if needed and will go back and edit the rest soon so it's not all too cramped. I want to keep Mycroft as Mycroft as I possibly can so the romance with Veronica will be slow and subtle for a long while. I don't think he'd ever be the one to abruptly abandon his aversion and unwillingness to form relationships. **

Everything had gone according to plan. Mycroft closed down the cctv camera feed from his laptop. Everything had gone according to plan. Irene's desire to meet Sherlock Holmes had played well into his favor, giving Mycroft a chance to allow Sherlock to be the hero again. It was clear he was desperate to prove himself once more after being merely a pawn by Mycroft in the last case he took. That desire seemed to burn even brighter than ever since the arrival of John Watson. Mycroft worried for Sherlock. He always was one to draw in people and form sentiments. It did however seem that the presence of John was favorable for the moment. He wondered for just a moment in the quiet of his office if perhaps it was sometimes a beneficial arrangement to have someone to lend support without agenda.

The case of Irene was a sensitive one for Mycroft. One that he'd have to carefully watch the progression of but it was clear her affections of Sherlock allowed him some safeguard. Mycroft was above giving in to biological needs every chance they arised. Never did he allow them to cloud his organized mind either but on occasion, after very stressful months he would use discreet escort services. He had used services similar to hers on those occasions, using them for their ability to be discreet and the quality of the women was better than run-of-the-mill prostitutes. Irene was well-connected within the business and was well aware of his occasional romps. He was unknown to the public so she had little use with the information but it was the principle of the matter that put him on edge. Mycroft shifted in his seat slightly, allowing the thought of her, with that sly smile announcing to Sherlock of Mycroft's surrender to sexual desire. Sherlock knew, of course he did. For it to be announced would make it official though; Mycroft wasn't completely above human needs. He brought himself away from the thoughts with ease and once again his mind returned to it's normal focused state. He knew she had a bigger game at hand than painting him with flesh tones. Irene Alder had contacted him alerting of the photos (ones he long knew were in her possession) but also specifically requested Sherlock be the one to intervene on the matters. It was a much bigger game indeed.

The middle-aged man pulled out photos neatly piled up in his desk drawer. They were of the woman's whereabouts the past three weeks. He needed to keep a careful eye on her. She was quite the busy woman; somehow managing to teach three students she'd hand selected to train soon to be mistress's, take on dozens of clients and remain her role as one of the headmistress at the private club Annabel's, visit many others in the business all the while staying in a tight connection with Moriarty's network. Her role with Moriarty had become quickly transparent. Mycroft flipped with little interest quickly through the pile of stills from the cctv cameras of her casual visits of the last two days until something caught his eye. A blurry Irene Alder was waiting outside the familiar building of 13th, Maida Avenue. Looking through the following stills he found the smiling face of Veronica, greeting the woman into her home. None of this was particularly important until he saw the third photo, an exchange of a folder from Irene to Veronica. A woman like Irene wouldn't hand deliver anything unless it held something of importance. He spread the stills out in chronological order. In the last frame before Irene entered her car, she smirked upwards towards the surveillance camera. He silently cursed his temp assistant for poorly overlooking these details from two days ago

The doorbell interrupted Veronica right in the middle of a good book. Regrettably she rose from her comfortable fortress of soft pillows and blankets, haphazardly throwing on a pair of black fitted shorts atop her frilly underwear. She would've have minded answering the door in such a manner but the little old lady the next door over often visited her and didn't take so well to so much skin being shown. The clock read 6:03pm. Veronica fell annoyed that her manners probably proved useless as Miss Kate was probably already well tucked into her bed by now. "Hullo" She slung open the door only to find the annoying, slightly intimidating man had made his presence once more in her life. Veronica flirted with the idea of shutting the door for a few seconds before he spoke.

"Hello, Miss Follies." He gave her the kind of smile that didn't reach ones eyes.

"Please, call me Veronica…and to what do I owe the pleasure of your company?" She asked as she invited the suited man into her living room, suddenly aware of her messy appearance. Quickly the concern was dismissed as she thought of her dislike for the man. "I was very rude to you previously and it has been ridding on my conscious for some time now." A silence fell between them as she sorted through her own confusion at the man sitting before her. He was smiling in-between his words, his tone and entire presence had drastically shifted from the harsh man she remembered him to be to a polite and well-adjusted man.

"Miss Follies- Veronica. I'd like to apologize on behalf of my bad behavior."

A pang of mistrust shot through her stomach as he eyed her once again with a well-measured smile. Something felt off and forced. He was lying, she felt so sure of it. She played along with his act out of curiosity "I accept. Thank you." She draped her legs over the sitting chairs arm rest. He remained seated upright, his eyes wandered to the rest of her apartment.

"Would you like something to drink?"

"No, Thank you." He replied.

"Well I would. Come along." She sprung up suddenly and wandered to the kitchen, forcing him to follow her lead down the hall. He walked behind her very slowly, arriving in the kitchen a minute or so after her.

She sipped at the cup of water for a minute before boldness came over her. Before she knew it she was letting her unabashed thoughts tumble out her mouth. "What are you really here for?" Veronica asked, slipping back with great ease into her own demanding nature. He'd thrown her off balance slightly with his sentiments earlier but now she strode forward to him with a confidence in her own instinct that he had an agenda. Men like him always did, didn't they? She had learnt that by now. He rose his eyebrows, seemingly caught off guard before he gave her another smile. "I'd just like to apologize." "You are still here though. You have an agenda, Mr. Holmes." She tutted. "Lying is unbecoming of you." All the forced pleasantries dropped quickly from his demeanor, his mask shattering in mere seconds.

"What nature is your relation with Irene Alder" It wasn't a question so much as it was an order.

"I don't believe that's any of your business." She chased down her nerves with another sip of water. He was frightening in all his sudden coldness. Somehow it did seem to suit him in a bizarre sort of way she thought to herself. It was like he was most comfortable with that side of himself. He walked closer to Veronica, who stood at the kitchen counter. Trying her best to remain in control of the situation she herself took another step forward to him, cocking an eyebrow as if to challenge him. Now only a small gap of space remained between the British government's brain trust and the burlesque dancer. "All information pertaining to Irene Alder is directly my business." He paused and looked down at her. "It'll serve you well to just play along, dear." The feeling she was safe for now washed over her and she trusted the gut reaction immediately. Quickly her thoughts caught up to what her body already told her, realizing if he had intended to show this side he wouldn't have started out playing the gentleman. She wasn't sure what information he was looking for but she could guess a few possibilities. Veronica smiled up at the tall man. "I'm a girl that needs to be wined and dined before I even entertain the thought of playing with a man." She crafted it to sound as vulgar as possible. He frowned as she continued "Where should we go tonight? Barbecoa? No…St. Johns. We will continue this discussion there." She paused before she gave him a quick look over. He was thinking. She had thrown him, if only for a moment..but it was enough to satisfy her. "I'm going to get dressed. Don't snoop….or do. I know you will either way."


	6. Dinner for Two

**This is the longest chapter i've written yet! Hope you enjoy!**

* * *

He weighed the options quickly. His two previous approaches hadn't worked as he expected them too. The girl looked so smug with pride at throwing him off. He thought for a moment of upping the intimidation, kidnapping her and torturing her into submission but quickly scratched that plan. The situation didn't call for such drastic measures yet. All Mycroft could deduce was that he had to play the game Irene set him out to play. Following that he deduced to accept the offer. He took a quick glance around her kitchen. Unlike the rest of her home which was in disarray the kitchen was in pristine shape. She didn't use it often. He didn't need to do much more deductions. He'd quickly realized the folder wasn't what was important. It was what Irene had told her. Her reaction didn't point to the immediate understanding of what he was looking for so she didn't know the importance of what Irene told her either. He established the best actions to take in a matter of seconds and took a few more to work out seven more plans if his first didn't work. He had underestimated how easy this was going to be.

Veronica entered the room again wearing a long sleeve dress that fanned out at the waist, cutting off at her calves. Her hair was now rolled and pressed into gentle waves and her lips were painted a subtle pink. It wasn't done for his benefit or her assets would've been more prominently showcased. She got ready like this often as the time it took her was astoundingly short. "Are you ready?" He asked, although he knew the answer. "Yes." She looked like the cat that caught the canary. How little did she know.

"After you." He opened car door for her. It was important to let her think once again that she was in the lead.

Getting in after her, he sat unconsciously as close to the edge of the door as he could, creating the most space between him and her as he could.

"To St. Johns." His driver gave him a quick glance through the rearview mirror.

The driver was confused to why Mycroft had suddenly taken to going to a restaurant but didn't question it- he never questioned anything. It was rare that Mycroft ever went out publicly. All his food shopping was done online or he ordered in, he hated the idea of being surrounded by so many goldfish all at once anywhere but even less at a restaurant. They always wanted to talk over their meals about such trivial things. If he had to make any conversation while taking a meal it would be business.

"What is it you do exactly, Mr. Holmes?"

Mycroft obliged the goldfishes pressing curiosity. "I'm a minor government official."

"Hmmm." Her body language indicated that she didn't believe him.

He would entertain Veronica's requests for a meal but knew well enough now that the likelihood of the girl cooperating with him was a very small chance. He carefully crafted his plan before shooting a quick text to Athena, who had come back to work and rid the burden of that awful temp.

* * *

The two sat in the back of the restaurant. Veronica felt it was best for them to be seated in the back given the nature of the conversation they were going to be having. She waited until someone came around to get their order before beginning. She didn't want it to be interrupted. Veronica watched Mr. Holmes with great intensity, her eye greens locking in on him to steal long looks at his face. She studied the details of his face incase she ever had to file a report against him. She hadn't paid much attention to his overall appearance before. She noticed his moles now and the way red tones in his hair caught the light. He didn't hold eye contact for long as she stared directly into his eyes.

"Welcome to St. Johns. My name is David. Can I get you something to drink?"

"What are the wine's you offer?" She smiled politely at the waiter.

"Tonight's special is an American Wine, Domaine Serene Evenstad Pinot noir 2010."

Veronica pursed her lips slightly, running her hand over her arm as she asked the waiter to check if they had the 2007, one she much preferred. It was better in her opinion than the 2010, offering more savory fruit flavor than the coveted 2010 and had a cheaper price tag. He quickly returned with the last bottle.

"Thank you, we'll both have that." The man popped the wine open and poured it into two glasses before Mycroft could object. He sat with a blank expression allowing her to make the decision, much to her disappointment. Veronica knew herself to allow her emotions to carry her away from time to time but she wasn't always such an argumentative person. She hardly let others walk over her she was generally polite and even-tempered. There was just something so fun about trying to get under the skin of the carefully put together "Minor government official". She hardly understood it herself but allowed herself to indulge on the act.

"What would you like to order?" Veronica gave a quick glance over the menu but already knew what she'd order.

She ordered her favorite from St. Johns, grilled herb and garlic lamb loin chops.

"And for you sir?"

"The creamy tuscan pasta will do." Mycroft answered in a tone that dismissed any further input from the waiter.

"So.." Veronica leaned forward into her hands, her fingers gently framing her face as she rested her chin against her upturned palms. "What is it you'd like to know, Mr. Holmes? I wouldn't be wrong in assuming you already know my career thus my connection to Irene Alder." She smiled a wicked smile.

"Would you consider yourself close to her?" He watched her intently as if she was a insect being pinned for a collection.

"Not very. Our relationship is purely a professional one."

Veronica thought back to how Irene had tried to bed her once or twice, but she left that detail out. It hardly seemed important given who the woman was. She loved to have pets.

"I see." He broke his gaze to look around the others in the restaurant. His discontentment with the situation, the place and the people didn't show through to Veronica. She didn't know to even look for the signs of it. He was thinking again though. That she noticed. His eyes would lose their focus for brief moments.

"What has Irene Alder done that makes her so important to you?" She knew better than to think he went through all the trouble to go through Veronica to make a connection with Irene. Sometimes a few customers from Annabel's would loiter around outside until Veronica was done with her shift to bother her about getting a chance with the infamous Irene Alder. She had selected her men and Mr. Holmes fit the type, he would've easily gotten in if that's what he wanted. Her intuition told her that wasn't what he wanted.

"She is only of somewhat importance." He took a small sip of his wine, purposely pausing before the waiter reached the table with the meals. After an awkward exchange between the well wishing waiter and unresponsive Mycroft, the waiter left.

" She is being watched for…her extensive knowledge on high status government officials. It's interesting that someone you claim you only have a professional relationship with visited you two days ago at your home?" He took another sip of his wine. "and if it is only a professional relationship then why did she visit, Miss Follies?"

Veronica remained silent, knowing full well that her silence seemed incriminating. She cut into the lamb and took her first bite. It'd allowed her to think of what to say a little longer. Her favorite meal tasted of nothing as she considered what to say. She couldn't disclose to him the things Irene had told her in her visit. It was wrong to pass up this information to a man who could be making the entire thing up. For all Veronica knew he could have been a serial killer. _He isn't. _Her heart told her as much. To betray Irene's trust didn't sit right with her either though.

She spoke slowly "If it's truly a Government Investigation, why am I not being detained like I was previously?"

* * *

"Would you like to be?" Mycroft Holmes looked at her with all seriousness. She was as expected proving to be uncooperative no matter what angle he took. His frustration for dealing with her was growing at rapid speed. Her eyes had moved up to the right when he spoke of the visit, indicating she was remembering the conversation but she had given very little other clues as to what it might have been about. Her body posture remained and her facial expression still seemed neutral at best. Her unwillingness showed Irene was someone she respected. Irene didn't threaten her as the mention of her produced no symptoms of anxiety or fear in Veronica. It was desire to remain loyal that kept her from speaking. Newly developed traits crack easily under pressure so she must have extended her loyalty to most and kept true to it often.

"I don't know, do I get to speak to someone other than you?" He had faltered on the first visit. She had somehow slipped under his skin like Sherlock and his carefully secure mask cracked; showing his own annoyance and frustration. He wouldn't make that same mistake again. She was searching for reactions similar to the ones he'd given her previously. It was rare that he had to put effort into remaining cold and passive. Having done so for 40 years, it was an art form he had mastered. Under all extremes he could remain aloof and distance but in the face of such childish actions that only seemed to stand to mock and rebel against him did he have to put effort. His face however betrayed none of his dissatisfaction with how everything was panning out.

"It was different last time." He kept the details out privy from the other restaurant goers, hoping she would follow his suit. Surely she was smart enough to know that talking about an attempted murder at a party of the most influential. Not that any of the tables around them were ease dropping. A couple to the left did however mention that Mycroft and Veronica were probably getting divorced soon. Goldfish did never know how to read anything. Suddenly a idea he hadn't previously entertained came to him.

"Veronica, do you get gut feelings often?" His usual slow speech had taken a more free quality to it.

She looked confused as the topic shifted so suddenly. "Yes…I don't see why that has anything to do with-"

Mycroft interrupted her. "Do you have any about anyone in this room" He quickly added "besides myself." It had become clear in her apartment she was able to somewhat read his intentions. She glanced around the room. "That's not really…it's not really on demand like that."

He told her to try.

Veronicas eyes scanned the room once more before they settled on an older gentleman. She frowned. "I told you it doesn't work like that…"

"Try another person." Her eyes shifted over to a persian woman in her 20's who was dining with her boyfriend.

"She's lonely." Mycrofts grey blue eyes didn't move from watching the dark haired, medium built dancer. He didn't need to look, having already looked at every face in the room. Veronica was right. The woman missed her family, she'd recently moved to London to be with her long distance boyfriend who she met online three years ago. He was proving to be less attentive in person than he was through text. The deduction was a fairly obvious one. He pressed her on to find something else.

"I feel like she's worried about the cheque being too expensive." Veronica shrugged before returning her gaze back to Mycroft.

She was mostly correct, although her statement lacked weight with details.

The woman wanted dessert, key lime pie- which was her favorite but her boyfriend was picking up the tab. She was also hoping to lose five pounds and was considering a juice cleanse. Mycroft was still ever so slightly entertained with the girls 'gut feelings'. It reminded him of Sherlock as a three year old; just learning to grasp the art of reading people. It was atrocious to watch by all accounts but amusing none the less.

"Perhaps you might share your gut feelings about Ms Alder with me?" Mycroft had found another way to press for information and intended to use it to his advantage. She gave him a hesitant look.

"You can keep anything that you feel conflicts your loyalties to her. What I need to know is if she is trustworthy." Which of course she wasn't. Mycroft knew as much but needed to keep things as simple as he could with Veronica. He couldn't play up the niceties as she saw right through his act and being domineering made her push back harder against him.

"She's smart...and she likes to be in charge." She finally answered. It would seem Veronica Follies didn't trust Irene either, anyone who did would've leapt to defend her.

"Thank you, Veronica." Mycroft smiled at her out of his own amusement. He didn't need to press for any more details. The entire dinner was a means to buy some time.

She paid the tab in it's entirety, telling him in all genuine honesty "I am the one who dragged you here."

* * *

Veronica found all the adrenaline leaving her body on the car ride home.

The entire thing felt surreal now.

She wondered how she ever even dared to act so brazen in front of this man in the first place. Her eyes felt heavy as she ignored the growing feeling that she had made a big mistake.

* * *

She had fallen asleep. Mycroft didn't know whether to be thankful as it would make the next part of his plan so much easier or disappointed in his own failure that allowed her to foolishly think he wasn't going to harm her. He decided on the first. Leaning forward he reached underneath the cars seat and found the small box he had texted Athena to plant there. He cast a quick look at the girl in the seat besides his. Her sleeping body moved like liquid with each of the drivers turns. He pushed back her hair gently, careful not to wake her up before stabbing a small syringe into her neck.

"sto..stop!" She cried out then her instincts took over in seconds, aggressively fighting against Mycroft who had pinned her back up the car seat. One of her arms slipped out from his grip. Mycroft felt a sharp pain as she yanked at his hair. Her resistance became weaker as the Sodium Pentothal took it's full effect.

"don't…" she mumbled as her body relaxed back and she fell back into sleeping state.

When he finally released his hold, Veronica's body slumped over into his lap. The warmth of her body seemed as if it was going to burn a hole into him. Mycroft quickly shoved her off, running his hands over his pants as if to soothe his own skin from the brief contact with her.


End file.
